


Where Winter Falls and Dragons Rise

by theRougeChevalier



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Drama, F/M, I made the Dothraki Scottish, Intrigue, Maybe fluff, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Napoleonic Wars, No Incest, Pirates...if you squint, Romance, Wales, don't hate, maybe smut later, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:06:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRougeChevalier/pseuds/theRougeChevalier
Summary: Captain Jon Snow of His Majesty's Royal Navy and a bastard of a great Northern house is discharged due to injuries following the Battle of Trafalgar.  He hasn't been home in 6 years, but in that time he has lost his brother and father to war and disease, but little does he know he's lost much more than that.  Nothing is as it should be.  Will Jon find his family and reunite them and bring justice and honor back to the house of Stark? A house he doesn't even formally belong too.  Will this mystery be his ending or his making?  And will he meet his true destiny along the path?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A Regency Drama done game of thrones style. Sorry but R+L=J is not canon in this story, I couldn't make it work for the plot or this time period, so Jon's mom is just an unknown. Dany doesn't show up in my plot summary but her part of the story will come into play later, promise. 
> 
> If you like this idea and want to see more of the story please comment or leave kudos to keep me honest. I am a slow and oft times forgetful writer when it comes to multi-chapters, so your comments and kudos will keep me on track and motivated to finish. 
> 
> Enjoy my Prologue!

February 1806, Greenwich Naval Hospital, London

The sun was warm, but the air was bitingly cold on the winter day that Jon stepped away from the naval hospital. It seemed he hadn’t been outside in forever, although in reality it could only have been a couple months, no more than four perhaps. ‘Four, no surely it felt much longer’ His stride was not as long nor as confident as it had once been and now instead of two steps he took three. The third being his cane, a daily necessity now, but the doctors had hope that with time he would grow strong enough to walk without it. He was still a young man after all. 

It was a bright winter day and Jon could see his breath when he walked, he should be pleased at the pleasant weather, to be free from his hospital bed, and with good prospects for his health once more; but his mood was glum and somber and he found no joy in the day. He felt listless, because for the first time in a long time he did not know what would come next. 

He had been discharged of his naval duties, no longer was he a man of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. No longer did he Captain his own crew and his own ship. No longer could he take sail at a moment’s notice, ready to fly upon the wind across the sea; seeking adventure and danger to serve King and Country or search for treasure. No more could he do those things. 

He had been injured in one of the final great naval battles of the recently concluded ‘For now’, he thought ruefully, war with Napoleon’s France. In the heat of battle he had thought it little more than a grazing gunshot wound to the leg, but it had been more than that. The bullet sank deep into his flesh and he had suffered several other compounding injuries to the chest and abdomen from sword fights aboard ship. He had been in the hospital this last few months, kept abed by fever and infection. He was lucky to not lose his leg as the surgeons were able to remove the bullet, but his range of motion had become very limited. When the doctors told him he would be discharged, he protested, for even Admiral Nelson had served with one arm and surely the British Royal Navy needed every man they could spare for the battles to come. 

But news broke in December of a tentative peace betwixt England and France. For how long no one really knew, Jon suspected not long, but until that time he would not be needed. Sent off with a cane and a grateful nation’s thanks for his service to live a private life, the first in many years. 

He didn’t quite know what to do with himself, standing on the cold sidewalk in Greenwich, he had no one, no one in London anyway a few friends perhaps, comrades in arms, although he couldn’t bear to see them in his condition. He had more than enough money to keep himself comfortably in a hotel for the time being. But not having a purpose had never sat well with Jon Snow, it was why he left home in the first place. 

He was the bastard son of a Great Northern Lord and as such would receive no inheritance; no duty, no prospects, and nothing else would ever come from having no name. But despite being a bastard his father loved him and was able to buy him a commission with the Royal Navy when he was but a young boy. He started as a young junior officer learning the ways of the sea, in his letters home he had told his brothers it was just like their tutoring sessions, but with the benefit of rolling seas; studying the winds and the stars, learning how to work the rigging and swab the deck, it all seemed a much grander adventure. And he had achieved so much more than an education, he had progressed through the ranks and eventually earned his own captaincy. That had been Jon’s proudest day. He had been an officer, Second Mate, serving under Captain Jeor Mormont on the 'Long Claw'. 

Captain Mormont had admired Jon’s ingenuity in the battle and had awarded him with one of the captured French Privateers’ ships. He had named it 'Ghost'. It was as good as its name for all of Jon’s enemies would tell you that the way Jon sailed his ship, it would come upon you quick and quiet and deadly. You would never know he was there until you were under fire. He and his Ghost were legendary. He was respected by his colleagues, loved by his men and many of his enemies admired him. Those that lived anyway. But his family was a different matter. 

His father was gone now. Lord Eddard Stark had passed almost 4 years ago of a fever. He hadn’t even been able to attend the funeral for he had been across the world when it happened. It took months for news to reach them in the southern seas and he didn’t even know it had happened until two months after. 

His older brother Robb had died not more than a year later on a French battlefield and even then he knew he would not be welcome at his funeral. His stepmother would not have allowed it. It was no secret that there was no love lost between the two of them and she had not approved of Robb joining the army. As the Lord of Winterfell he had no need nor requirement to do his duty for His Majesty’s Armed Forces, but Robb never would or could have lived with himself if he had done nothing while others from his generation went off to fight England’s wars. When he had died a hero’s death in battle she had gone so far as to write Jon blaming him for his brother’s death all because of the foolish notions of honor and glory he had filled his letters with when he was growing up at sea. She had been fine with sending him off to the Royal Navy so young, so as not to have him around the estate, but her precious Robb was another matter.   
He had not held her anger against her for they both grieved just in different ways.

But as such he had not been home, if he could even call Winterfell his home, for a long long time. His last visit had perhaps been when he received his Captaincy. Jon had put in to port to get his new ship properly fitted and kitted and ridden home to see the family. But that had been before his father’s death, more than 6 years ago then. 

But now he had seemingly no excuse, apart from his stepmother’s dislike of him not to visit, and the distance from London to Winterfell by carriage and the cool weather. All that aside he deeply wished to see his siblings again. His little sister Arya most of all, though she would be a woman grown now for sure. She was his favorite and he was unashamed of it. A fierce little thing whom all agreed should have been born a boy instead of a girl. If she had been he would have taken her upon his own ship as a mate by now and taught her how to sword fight. He knew she was keen to learn, they had played at knights and brigands enough as children for him to know that. When he came back to visit six years ago he had gifted her with a dagger and a few lessons on how to protect herself, he wished it could be a sword but his father would have thought it unseemly and his stepmother if she ever found out, would have forbade it with all vehemence. 

As for his remaining brothers, who had been so young when he left home, and would still be quite young. Bran had fallen from horseback shortly after his last visit and according to Robb’s letters had barely survived. He was chair bound now, unable to walk; sickly and frail. The fact that he lived was a miracle that Robb attributed only to his mother’s will if nothing else. And Rickon who would have been but 8 or 9 when they’re father passed; it must be hard for them both without Robb or father around. The title and the land would have passed to Bran after Robb’s death, and even though Bran was feeble of body he was not of mind; sharp as a tack, he could manage well enough. Jon didn’t begrudge him any of it he only worried about the burden of the estate and the noble title upon such young shoulders. But, surely his mother would help him. Lady Catelyn had always been cold and strict with him, but she loved her children fiercely and was a stalwart woman in her own right; a force to be reckoned with who had managed the Winterfell estate for many years when Lord Eddard had been away, and Jon had no doubt she had seen to everything after his death as well. 

He took a deep bracing breath. 

That settled it then, whether his stepmother willed it or no, whether she welcomed him or no he knew he must go and check up on his siblings. He was the only elder brother they had now and as such he had an emotional duty to them if nothing else. He had been absent for much of their lives, but had written letters and sent gifts as often as he could and they had done the same. He smiled a little thinking that perhaps that was the only silver lining to this injury, he would now truly get to know his family. The thought of being close to them again put a little spring in his step, perhaps he wasn’t so purposeless after all. 

His first stop would be his father’s Executor’s office, it wouldn’t due to catch Lady Catelyn unawares by arriving unannounced and so he would have one of the lawyers employed by his father’s estate send a message to Winterfell informing her of his intent to visit, it was only proper after all. He walked quickly to the nearest taxi stand and traveled by carriage across the bridge to the City of London offices of one Roderick and Sons. He arrived expecting that he would meet with old Sir Roderick himself; whom Jon had been well acquainted with in his youth. Besides being his father’s lawyer and business manager he was also a good and longtime friend of House Stark and had been a frequent visitor and guest throughout Jon’s childhood. He half raised the boys joining in with the hunting and riding and swordplay, and all the boyhood pursuits of young noblemen. 

But when he arrived he was surprised to find that Roderick and Son was no longer run by Roderick or many of his sons. There seemed to be only one left. When Jon inquired as to when he might be able to meet with him and ask him to write a letter to Lady Stark on his behalf the secretary to whom he was speaking gave him a queer look and blinked and held his quill in midair. “Whom may I ask is inquiring?” 

“Jon Snow,” He replied, “Captain Jon Snow. Late of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. I am Lady Stark’s Late Husband’s Son.” 

“Ah.” The Secretary answered as though that explained everything, though it explained very little to Jon. Jon stared at him quizzically awaiting the epiphany answer the man clearly had. 

The man’s face transferred into one of solemn sorrow. “My apologies sir, but Lady Stark has been dead, nearly two years now.” 

Jon felt as if he had been shot all over again. “How?” He managed to get out although all his breath was gone. 

“Some say of a broken heart, others suicide, what with the death of her son coming so close upon the heels of her husband’s. It seems she could not bear the burden of such sorrow.” 

“That’s impossible.” Jon answered with all conviction. “She has other sons, other daughters, why would she do that?” Jon’s conviction swiftly turned to confusion, the whole world had gone pear shaped in an instant and his mind rang with a thousand questions. 

“No one knows sir.” 

“Well who is running the estate?” He inquired. 

“The estate is closed sir.”

“What?” 

The man flipped through a large book on his desk and responded. “Winterfell estate has been closed for the last few months. The heir Lord Brandon Stark is staying with his guardian.” 

“Who is his guardian?” Jon’s mind raced with whom it could be. Surely his father had told him and Robb who would take care of the family should the worst happen? Obviously Robb was the natural choice as heir to look after the estate and all the family, but if the worst should happen to Robb….and it had….what then? And their mother gone too. He couldn’t think, he didn’t know. He tried to recall his father’s friends and comrades from wars past. Could it be Jory or Fat Tom? Fat Tom was little more than a servant, but still trustworthy. 

So deep in thought was Jon he almost missed the answer. The secretary had been flipping furiously through papers before he looked up at him and said. “Why that would be Lord Petyr Baelish.” 

He was not familiar with that name. “Who is Lord Petyr Baelish?!” He knew he sounded rude and churlish, but it couldn’t be helped, he was in the middle of a great shock and he felt as if with every question he was losing his grip on reality, his link to his siblings slipping further from his grasp. Nothing had ever scared him so much. 

“Lord Petyr Baelish is a distinguished Lawyer sir and a close friend of Lady Stark. He was named guardian of the children by Lady Stark after her husband’s death.”

“A friend of Lady Stark?” Jon was certain he had never heard that name mentioned amongst family and it would be unlike Lady Catelyn to entrust the welfare of her sons to a new acquaintance. "Why would she not entrust the guardianship to Lord Roderick?" He asked pointedly. "Sir, Lord Roderick passed on not long after Lord Eddard and thereafter Lady Stark managed all her personal affairs through Lord Baelish's office. Roderick and Son's manage the estate only sir and since Lord Brandon was under age when his mother passed, the estate will remain closed and managed by us until his majority. Lord Baelish is only the boys' welfare guardian. He tried to petition the court to have the management rights turned over to him but...." The secretary stopped abruptly as he realized he had probably said to much and breached several privacy statutes. As he swallowed all he could think was that in his defense this man looked to fearsome in his wroth to be crossed. 

“Just the boys? What of my sisters? Where are they?” Jon asked abruptly slamming his hand down on the desk. 

The secretary blanched and squeaked as his desk bounced from the force. “I’m afraid I’ve already said too much sir, I can’t tell you anymore.” 

Jon’s brow set in a hard line and his mouth to match as his whole body tensed. He was a Captain and was not used to his orders being disobeyed. “I will speak to your supervisor.” 

The man went even paler. “But sir, that really won't be necess.....” He stuttered out only to be interrupted. 

“Now.” Jon said in a gruff grunt of a command, quiet but more powerful than even his fist pounding the desk. The tone of the word sent the pale thin man skittering from his chair and down the hall to the back offices. Jon’s hand tightened around his cane and he squared his shoulders preparing for a fight. 

‘Where are they? What happened to my family?' This morning he had been searching for a purpose, this was not the kind he had had in mind. More than anything he was angry with himself for not having tried to contact them sooner. He often wondered why there had been no response from the family when the Navy had sent his injury notice to Winterfell. He had assumed it was out of spite his stepmother ignored it. But he should have known when none of the children sent letters. Arya at least would have written had she known he was ill. 'I’ll find you. I'll find you all.’ He swore to himself in that moment ‘I promise.’


	2. Throwing the Dog a Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's search seems hopeless, but he finds help in an unexpected place. 
> 
> The Plot Thickens!

Jon stared forlornly into his empty wine goblet, his second to be truthful, the flagon still resting at his elbow. It had been almost three weeks since he started his search for his siblings and he was getting nowhere. Three weeks since that day in Roderick and Sons when Eddard the youngest son of Roderick, now the proprietor and Jon’s father’s namesake came out to see what all the fuss was about when his secretary had burst into his office unannounced stuttering on about some irate naval officer and the Stark estate.   
Eddard only knew Jon by reputation as being the youngest he had not grown up with Jon as his brothers had, but his brothers were all gone to the wars most of them dead. He tried to assuage Jon’s fears saying that it would be against protocol to release any information about Lord Baelish or his whereabouts or that of his brothers, but he did reveal to Jon at least some information on Jon’s sisters. 

Apparently Sansa had been wed, not long after her mother’s death, into a noble house, not just any noble house but one that boasted of the blood royal on both sides; the House Baratheon and the House Lannister, the eldest son and heir to Robert Baratheon, Joffrey. 

Lord Robert Baratheon had been good friends with Eddard Stark as well, but had died many years ago in a hunting accident, he was a cousin to the royal family perhaps 10th or 11th in line for the throne. His sons even closer due to their mother’s own lineage. The Lannisters were an infamous house well known in royal and noble circles for their fierce nature, none were better at vengeance than the lions of Lannisters; many a lesser house had been destroyed with but a word from Lord Tywin Lannister and his daughter Cersei Baratheon nee Lannister. 

Apparently shortly after Sansa’s wedding Arya had gone missing and there had been no sighting of her since. 

Jon poured another glass of wine. He wished he knew where to look, but he didn’t even know where to begin and he knew that Arya was clever if she didn’t want to be found, no one would ever find her. But out of all his siblings he knew that she would be the most help. She would know what had happened and know where to find the others. She was clever and strong. He didn’t worry about her taking care of herself but he did miss her terribly and missed her help even more. 

He had had no luck finding the boys either. 

He had gotten as much information from Eddard Cassel as he was going to get without fisticuffs, but this wasn’t some island in the West Indies it was London and decorum held precedent here. It took more effort than he would have liked to reign himself in but he managed. After leaving Roderick and Sons, he quickly found and booked a room in an inn and had his things sent for from the hospital. Once settled in he immediately the next morning headed to the Office of Public Records. If this Baelish was a lord then there should be records there concerning his family name, titles and properties. However what he found was that Lord Baelish was not of the old nobility. He was a self-made man, Nuveau Riche as it were, he had no great house name or connections and as such no estate to track. As for his list of properties it was quite long. He could spend an eternity trying to narrow down which one of them housed his brothers. 

After the Public Records Office he had hastily written several letters to friends, neighbors, and even servants of Winterfell in the North, begging information. Inquiring if any of them knew the truth of what had happened to Lady Catelyn and the whereabouts of any of his siblings. He knew he was grasping at straws waiting for a reply, but it was all he could do short of going to Winterfell himself. Which was quickly becoming the most viable option, the more Jon drank. 

After writing his letters the next step had become clear to him, but it would take time, as protocol demanded. He had sent a note requesting a meeting with the Honorable Lord Joffrey Baratheon Son of Robert, Sansa’s husband. He had sent it through the proper channels but there was no telling how long it would take Joffrey’s secretary to address it with the young lord. All the note had said was that Jon wished leave from Lord Joffrey to call upon his sister the Lady Baratheon now that he was home from the wars. He had yet to receive a reply. Jon sighed as he finished his third cup of wine. Protocol and courtesy ruled this world of nobility, he had been raised to mind his manners and respect, rank, age, and station, but he couldn’t quite fathom what he was up against. Now more than ever he missed his crew, his saber, and the laws of the sea. Jon was an honorable man and had never used his power as captain or his men for his own gain, but in the face of the daunting task before him he would give anything to have his crew at his back. 

While he awaited replies to his letters he had also discovered the fate of his ship and his crew, he had found that his good friend and mate Eddard Tollett had been named Captain of the Ghost by the Royal Navy in his stead. Jon could not have been more pleased that they had chosen someone so high in Jon’s trust and estimation. Not two weeks since his discharge from the naval hospital he had received a note from Ed asking to meet. Jon was more than eager to see some familiar faces from his old life as his new one was not going so well. 

He and Ed had sat down for an ale at a portside bar in and amongst the common sailors. Jon had joined his men at such establishments before but always abroad, never on English soil where such fraternization would have been unseemly. But now he was not a ranking officer and could enjoy the ambiance of a salty sea pub with his men. While men of the Royal Navy and sailors of all kinds rabble roused around them he and Ed stood at a barrel with their drinks and Ed begged his permission to Captain Ghost. 

“I don’t care what the Royal Navy says sir, I care what you say. You have put your blood, your sweat, your everything into this ship and I couldn’t take it from you.” Ed said in earnest. 

“I guess you haven’t heard, I’ve been discharged. Ghost is not mine anymore. She is yours. I hold no grudge and wish you fair winds and following seas. I’m only sad I can’t sail anymore. I would love to be a Captain again….” He trailed off. 

Ed chuckled good naturedly. “It’s ridiculous if you ask me, your discharge. We’ll be fighting old Bonaparte again before you know it and the Royal Navy is going to realize we need men like you to fight, hell every man we can get most like, cane and all.” 

Jon smiled. “When that day comes I will happily answer the call. Perhaps they will give me a new ship or put me under your command.” 

They laughed together at that. “Bloody unlikely that. I don’t even know how I came to have the command, I’m no one’s first choice, not even my own.” 

“Well you’re mine and I trust you with the men. Take good care of them Ed. Where are they sending you next?” 

“Ah down to Africa on some trade escort mission. Even with the supposed peace merchant ships feel uncomfortable traveling so close to the coast of Spain and around France without protection. So we have to hold their hands and guard their flanks all the way to North Africa I’m told. Makes me want to take up privateering.”

“It’ll be a breeze Ed, you like those trips where there is no action don’t you?”

“You’re right I do. Not that I’m complaining.” 

Jon grinned into his ale. ‘Like Hell’ He thought. Ed was a champion at whinging. 

Ed continued, “I mean it Jon, as far as I’m concerned you’ll always be the true Captain of the Ghost. Anything you need say the word and me and the men will make sure it’s done.”   
“All I ask is that on your voyages please keep your eyes and ears open for my sister.” Jon went on to explain his situation to Ed. 

“Consider it done. We’ll ask in all the usual places and all of our old contacts. If we find her we’ll bring her straight back to you. How you going to find your lil brothers though?”

“I’ve written to my other sister, hopefully she knows. I’ve written all the old servants from Winterfell, I’ve done everything I can think of to do and yet I am no closer to finding them.” 

“And if you find them what then?” Ed had asked taking a swig from his ale. Jon gave him a quizzical look. “Well you can’t just steal them away can you? If this Baelish feller is their guardian for true then it might be difficult to take them away. And where would you keep them if you took em? Maybe you plan on becoming a privateer yourself and keeping them in the West Indies somewhere?” He'd teased.

Jon frowned in remembrance of the conversation opting for another sip of wine. He still didn’t have an answer to Ed’s question. He didn’t have any plan past finding his brothers and sisters and getting them back to Winterfell. But Ed was right, he had neglected to realize all the legal inroads he would have to traverse to do that. Perhaps just seeing his brothers and sisters and knowing they were safe would be enough to sate him, but he very much doubted it. He had been so desperate for something to cling to from his old life that after his discharge being reunited with his half siblings seemed to be the only thing that mattered. But he needed to look to the future as well, but the thought of a future without the sea…Jon downed the rest of his wine and refused to dwell anymore. He was a man of action not of reflection. The drink gave him the incentive to say ‘the hell with protocol’ and he picked up his cane and made his way out of the tavern. 

On wine and fury alone he managed to walk all the way to Regent’s Park and knocked upon the door of the stylish Baratheon Manor situated prominently amongst the other stately homes of this little corner of North London seemingly set aside for the close friends and confidantes of the King. 

The door was opened by a butler. “Yes?” The man said blank faced, “I would like to speak with Lady Baratheon please, Lady Sansa Baratheon, I am her brother, Captain Jon Snow.”   
The butler blanched slightly at his statement but Jon only had a second to ponder why as the Butler was already grabbing the door once more positioning himself to close it quickly, Jon quickly stuck his cane out to block the door, thus far it seemed to be the only thing the blasted cane was good for. 

The butler’s brow furrowed. “The Lady is not at home, and even if she were you are not her brother. She has but two and they are younger than you.” 

“I’m her half brother and I’ve been out of the country for a long time. Please, I just want to ascertain if my siblings are well.” 

The polite route didn’t seem to be working as the butler tried to pull the door closed past his cane, but Jon held fast. He could read frustration in the man’s face, but also a small twitch of the eye that Jon knew from his experience in battle meant fear.

“When will she be home? I wish to come call on her at a more appropriate time.” 

“I’m sorry, but my lady has no time for your kind.” 

Jon was used to the nobility teasing him about his bastardy, but though it had long stopped feeling like a slap didn’t mean it didn’t still sting. He leaned forward into the man’s space, time to find out the true source of that fear. 

“She was my sister before she was your lady and if I can’t see her then I will insist on seeing your employer Lord Baratheon.” 

The butler’s brow furrowed and he stiffened. “One moment.” The man held out his hand gesturing for Jon to stay in the doorway and he turned back down the foyer. Jon remained tensed, he didn’t expect it to be that easy. 

And it wasn’t…the butler returned with a large burly man in a black jacket and green breeches with his hair loose, but it did nothing to conceal the ghastly burn across half his face. 

The butler addressed the man “This gentlemen refuses to leave the premise.” 

The man grunted and turned a cold grey stare on Jon he clenched his knuckles and without another word strolled forward with purpose. Jon clenched his cane and instinctively reached for a weapon that was not there. In an instant the man was on him with a firm hand on his shoulder pushing him out the door. Jon leaned his weight into the man. 

“Time for you to go.” The large man growled out taking Jon’s cane from his hand and lifting him bodily by the lapel as he dragged him down the stairs. 

“Wait! I just want to speak with my sister!” Jon’s journey towards the ground abruptly stopped as the man held him aloft and stared at him unblinkingly for a moment before shaking him. “Your sister?!” 

“Lady Sansa St…Baratheon.” He breathed in a rush trying to pry the giant’s fingers from his lapel. 

The man growled menacingly and took Jon’s shoulders in both hands continuing to drag him down the garden path towards the gate. Jon struggled, but his leg was beginning to ache with the effort and the man’s weight was not easily moved. 

As they reached the gate the man threw him against the wrought iron bars and held him there. “Now that’s quite enough!” He growled out over his shoulder loud enough to be heard by the butler, when he leaned down Jon was almost afraid he was about to be punched or bitten. 

“Sansa isn’t here.” He whispered instead. “She hasn’t been for months. The little bird ran away.” 

Jon looked at him puzzled and jerked at his hands ineffectually. “What?” He stuttered out. 

“Lord Joffrey is a prick to say the least and Sansa couldn’t take it anymore.” He shook Jon and called out loudly again. “Her Ladyship doesn’t want to see the likes of you!”   
“I tried to help her, but she was too afraid. Not that I blame her….” He paused looking thoughtful. He let Jon back down on his feet as he reached for the gate handle. “But the point is you have to find her and when you do keep her safe and away from here. Away from London.” He wrenched it open and dragged Jon through. Jon grabbed the man’s jacket in a desperate attempt to slow him down. 

“Wait! Do you know where she is? Or where my brothers are?” 

The man growled again for show…or so Jon hoped. “She’s not in London. I tried to track her, but can’t find her and I can find anyone in this city. If I were you I’d head North, she used to talk about staying with friends up there. I don’t know who’d harbor her though, the Lannisters are not a family to be trifled with. Check the poor houses along the canal routes to York.” 

With one strong jerk Jon found himself tossed onto the cobblestones outside the gate and his cane tossed after him. “And stay out!” The scarred man shouted, but he stayed at the gate long enough to whisper. “As for your brothers, Sansa was only allowed to seem them once and Lord Baelish could have moved them by now, but when I escorted her to see them they were Baelish’s property ‘Queen’s Vale’ in Suffolk.” 

Jon reached for his cane. His pride was bruised and thinking himself a proper fool for his drunken desperation, but he was exceedingly thankful to have met this brute, who provided him with more information than he had had previously. 

“Thank you.” He mumbled as he stood. 

The man snorted and waved a hand dismissively as he turned away, but as Jon dusted himself off the man turned back. “When you see her, tell the little…Lady Sansa, that the Hound still has her back.” 

Jon nodded solemnly, “I will.” 

The Hound, as Jon now assumed he was, stormed back towards the house slamming the door and shouting at the butler “Stop staring you fool and get back to work!”   
Jon took a few steps away from the house before continuing to set his coat and hat to rights and considering all he had learned. 

Two sisters in the wind and a possible location for his brothers. 

It seems his inclination to head North to Winterfell would be for the best after all. If Sansa sought refuge closer to home then she would definitely be headed to Yorkshire, but how could a young woman with little money make it all the way from London to Yorkshire on her own? Carriages cost money and they would never take a young woman alone. She could have been offered a ride by a canal boat, but not without cost. Truthfully neither was safe. 

Sansa was strong willed, but naïve to the ways of the world. He didn’t want to fathom what kind of danger she would find out there. Arya would face the same dangers no doubt, but Arya could handle herself in a fight, Jon had made sure of that. Sansa however…she could be blown over by a strong breeze.   
He looked back towards the Baratheon mansion. Something terrible must have happened to force her to abandon all she knew and flee into the cold uncaring arms of the world. He clenched his hands around his cane. 

She may not be in Yorkshire, but it was a good place to start. He would follow the Hound’s advice and seek the canal ways backwards towards London from there. First though, he acknowledged Ed was right. He couldn’t just rush in and take the boys and what would he do when he found Sansa? He had to be able to take care of them…and that’s when it hit him, Sam, he thought with a smile and a chuckle. How could he have forgotten dear Sam? 

Samwell Tarly was a dear friend who had been commissioned on a ship like him as a boy, but not with hopes of becoming a sailor. He said it was his father’s hope that the sea would toughen him up and make him the heir he always wanted. But Sam was a hopeless sailor, a coward and a soft touch not to mention, always sea sick, but smart as a whip. After stepping in to save Sam from bullying once or twice he and Jon had become unlikely friends. 

After a few years aboard ship Sam received a letter telling him he now had a little brother, one whom his father intended to raise to be the perfect heir and that Sam could now return home and go to school as he wished. It seemed Sam’s mother had convinced his father with the birth of another son that since Sam was no longer responsible for the family’s honor he should be allowed to do as he liked and go to university. It seems Lord Tarly was now appeased with the idea of his son being a lawyer someday. A typical profession for second sons of noble families. 

Jon had been sorry to see Sam go, but knew that the sea was no place for him. Jon encouraged him to follow his dreams though and not to let anyone push him around and the two had remained friends. Sam was a prolific writer and faithfully sent letters to Jon and his other friends in the crew as often as possible. 

He had even sent one to Jon while he was in hospital. His last letter said he was clerking for a lawyer’s office in Oxfordshire, true it wasn’t as glamorous as being a London high street lawyer, but he couldn’t bear to be parted from his beloved books and although his curriculum for law was already completed he was conducting advanced research with the university in his spare time. 

Despite his oddities, Sam was the smartest person Jon knew and surely he would be willing to help Jon with all the legal hurdles of getting his kin back. Jon stabilized himself with his cane and headed off down the street again. He had a plan now and that was a bit more than he had before and with renewed determination he gritted his teeth against the pain in his leg and set off intent on making arrangements to head to Oxfordshire on the morrow. He would get help and then he would set off North in search of Sansa. There was no time to waste, although he and Sansa had never been close she was family and he couldn’t abandon her. 

‘But first,’ he resolved thinking back on his interlude with the hound. ‘I need a weapon.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in posting this next chapter! September got away from me and I'm terrible at transition chapters. And I had to a bit of historical research to make everything plausible. Also I needed to introduce more characters and keep building Jon's emotional state. The next chapter will have more action! I promise! And hopefully this being a three day weekend I can make some quicker headway on it and release a few of my other plot bunnies that have been cluttering up my thought process.
> 
> Thanks to all for your interest in this story! I'm both shocked and honored as its been so long since I dabbled in creative writing. I'll do my best to keep this going for you!


End file.
